The Lost Djinn
by The Broken Pentacle
Summary: It happened again. Bartimaeus was summoned. Was it honestly that unusual, even IF everyone thought he was dead? No. However, the girl who summoned him* is very strange. So is her way of summoning...R&R *honestly, how many young capable magicians are there
1. Intro

Intro

_A girl all dressed in black sat in the center of a bare wood floor. Several cushions and notebooks were piled around her, inside a giant star. The girl was hunched over a small paper-backed book, furiously scanning the print. Suddenly, she slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand, and hurried out of the room. She came back a moment later with a red water bottle. She looked around, making sure everything was right. Then she stepped into the middle of the star on the floor, and cleared her throat. It was time. She had waited so long for this moment. It was time to see if she had the Gift, or if she was just insane. She opened her mouth, and began to sing._


	2. A Strange summons

**Sorry that the first chapter was so short. I am having trouble with my computer, and well, i'm sure you all know how that is. Anyway, hope you like! **

**Oh, and i don't own ANY of the Bartimaeus trillogy, exept all the junk below. ( to find the footnotes, scroll ALL the way to the bottom!)**

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I was home. I had been for a long time, ever since the Glass Palace incident. I guess everyone thought I was dead, along with Nathaniel. So was it a surprise when I felt the tug of a summons? Not really. What _did_ surprise me, slightly, was that it was a _gentle _summons. Not hard and painful like most of the time. A strange, haunting melody drifted across to me from the world, and I'm not sure why that bothered me.

I decided I would become a huge fire. Flames scare most people, especially Magicians. However, the girl I saw when I appeared (1) did not as much as flinch. Actually, she looked rather bored.

"Finally!" she said, standing up straight. "It took you long enough." I must admit, I was rather shocked by her casual tone. Well, let's see how long it took for her to loose it. The fire seemed to grow, until the whole room was in flames. From within its depths someone – a child – started shrieking.

"Quit that will you?" Hmmm… I guess it's not a _command_. I kept the screaming going. The girl shrugged, turned and inserted a pair of earphones. I couldn't believe it. Listening to music in the middle of a summoning! The little git. I started screaming louder, And making the flames wilder, but she just turned up the volume, tapping her foot in time to the beat. This kept going for several minutes, until, finally, I couldn't contain my curiosity. What the hell was she up to? Summoning something, than ignoring it is not typical. The screaming died down a bit, and the fire settled into the form of a wolf. Her music was so loud now I could hear the words;

_"Get outta my waaay awaaaay, oooooh, first you kissed me, then you killed me. Get outta my waaay awaaay oooooh, can't stop me, watch me go. Watch me go!"_

Hmm. Odd for a magician to be listening to some rock band. Oh, well. New times, new phases.

_"WHY HAVE YOU SUMMONED ME, CHILD?" _Said the fire-wolf in a deep, rich vibrato. She looked around.

"Oh. Quit shrieking, have we? I couldn't hear." She turned off her walkman and winced. "I think you ruptured my eardrums."

_"YOUR OWN FAULT."_

"Maybe." She said, giving me a funny look. "But you're wondering why I summoned you? That's easy. I want you to answer some questions, and then you can go on your way." (2) The fire-wolf's eyes narrowed.

_"PROCEED."_

"Alright. What's your name?" Like she didn't know.

_"I AM BARTIMAEUS, SAKHR AL-JINNI, SER –"_

"Yes, I know that." she waved her hand vaugely. "I mean, what name do you _like_ to go by?" she picked up a note book and a pen, looking at me expectantly. Completely and utterly unprepared for such a question, I said the first thing that popped into my head.

"Rekhyt ," I said, the vibrato in my voice gone. She raised her eyebrows and made a note.

"Rekhyt? Isn't that Egyptian for 'servant'?" the wolf nodded. "Okay… did you serve much in Egypt?" another nod. I was gonna make her work for the answers. "Who was your master, or masters?"

"Tutmoses, Ramses the great, Khufu, Eye, Ptolemy, and many others who are not so mentionable." Another note was written down.

"Wasn't Eye the head priest who helped assassinate King Tutankhamen?"

"Yes." (3)

"And which Ptolemy?"

"The scholar."

"I see. Now, what did…"

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_(1) Honestly. How many young, extremely capable magicians are there?_

_(2) Bad road, bad road, BAD ROAD! This is exactly like Ptolemy. I have only had three human friends, and two of them started by asking questions. It's always the same, gradually geting used to one another, making friends then – BAM. Their either dead or thinking I'm dead. I will not go through that again, even if you paid me._

_(3) Actually, I was in on the job. Tut, aged nineteen, was riding out in the desert on his schmancy gold chariot. Guess who the horses were? Exactly. We threw him of his chariot, hit his head against a rock, and he died a few days later. Not that we get any credit. Archeologists seem to think it was the mummification process that whacked his head out of shape. Bah!_

**Okay, How did you like it? Please review. Tell me if it's good, bad or even "My, the weather's nice today!" Just please make me happy and RIEVIEW!**


	3. A Very Bad Interrogation

The Q/A session went on for about an hour and a half. Finally, the girl stopped, and flipped through her notebook.

"So, Rekhyt, do you have any questions for me?" SCORE! She had no idea how annoying I could be. Or maybe she did. Who knows? In any case, I thought for a minute, trying to decide how to bug her. Finally I settled on;

"Why were you listening to that shit?" she blinked, then, to my surprise, grinned.

"My friends ask me that all the time,"

"You have friends? I'm amazed."

"Their few and far between, but yes." She was still grinning.

"Seriously, why?"

"It's the Dollyrots." **(A/N: I don't own the Dollyrots either!)** She shrugged. "They're a good band."

"Not the way I see it."

"Screw you."

"Whatever." I paused a moment, thinking. Well, that plan backfired. I decided to go for her pride. "You know you are a strange magician."

"How so?"

"Well, for one, look at you. Scribbling away like a bookworm, or some other creature that lives on printed text, and the stories of others." I rushed on, not giving her a chance to react. "You also might want to give that outfit back to your grandma. It'd suit her better." She tried to speak, but I didn't let her. "And I have never known a magician to plug in their music while a djinn was on the loose. I mean – Come on."

"Perhaps," she said quietly, cutting me off. "I'm not a magician. Perhaps I'm something else." I laughed then, knowing that she was bluffing.

"Only magicians can summon my kind, you stupid girl. Even mites know that, and they have no brains at all!"

"Hmmm… stupid am I? Well, then…" **(1)** She rolled up her sleeves, took a drink from her water bottle, and cleared her throat. She said something I couldn't make out, and suddenly water was pouring down on my head! That was something I hadn't experienced before. It did not hurt me, but it was annoying.

"Alright! Alright. Stop the bleedin' waterfall!" And suddenly, there was not a single drop of water anywhere. The girl looked smug.

"Told you so."

"So, then." I said, eyeing her carefully, "If your not a magician, what are you?" she looked at me, thinking.

"That's not a discussion for today. I'll probably call you some other time, if I ever need to."

"Don't hesitate to not call!"

"Trust me, I will." Darn logic; I thought I had her. "Good bye!" and with that, I was gone.

_**(1)** Okay, right here, I was expecting some form of punishment. Just another example of how strange a magician this girl was._

**Hmmm... I don't like this chapter much. I'll write a better one next time. PLEASE REVIEW!**


	4. Queezle's Orb, And The Golem

**I promised that the next one would be better, and it is! (that or i'm deluded...) anyway, ENJOY!**

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And she did call me, several days later.

And a week after that.

Two weeks until she called me again.

And two and a half weeks after was the next time she called me.

From all this, I assumed that it was getting harder and harder for her to summon me.

The fifth time she summoned me, she interrogated me about other demons. She wanted to know the different rivalries and friendships that went on in my race of being, and others. After a long, rather boring hour of reciting famous rivalries, friendships and other spectacular arguments, I asked the question I had at our first meeting.

"So, I've been wondering, what are you if you're not a magician?" she looked at me, like she was deciding weather to answer or not.

"I'm a Wiccan."

"What's that?"

"Basically, a white witch."

"In all my time, so called 'White Witches' have just been people who mess around doing miner spells and playing with herbs. They've never summoned anything, as far as I know."

"Well, yes." She admitted. "Usually, all a Wicca does is herb potions. I'm not usual, though. I found the daemon summons spell and pentacle while I was going through a herb shop's library of potions. I decided I would try it out." She shrugged in a sort of guilty way here. "I knew it wasn't right to try something like black magic –"

"Demons are not black magic." I said, highly offended.

"Most people think so," she pointed out. "But I was desperate. I would go crazy if magic was just monkshood and rampion. So, I tried it. First, I tried to summon someone called" she checked her notes, "Queezle. She seemed like a – what's wrong?" The relaxed (1) viper that had been in my pentacle was no more. It had been replaced by a very tense cobra.

"And? Did she show up?" the girl must have heard the very faint urgency in my voice. Queezle and I had been friends for along time before the Golem incident. I never thought I would see her again, but what if…?

"I… I'm not sure. Something happened." She bit her lip and flipped through that notebook of hers. "I wrote it down, somewhere. Ah ha! Got it. It says;

I was attempting something a normal white witch would never even think of. I wanted to summon a djinni – Queezle by name. When I called her from the Other Place, Something strange started going on. I heard a sigh of wind, and I smelled flowers. That was all – at first. Then something (It looked like a crystal orb) floated in the center of the djinn's pentacle. To my amazement, it drifted out of the pentacle, and into mine! When it reached me a girl's face, (with cat's eyes and ears, I might add!) looked up at me. It kept whispering something. It sounded like Old Babylonian, even to my un-trained ears. Finally I said

'Who are you?' the girl looked startled, like I had dumped cold water over her head. She murmured something like; 'A girl. Like me. A girl…' suddenly, her eyes widened, and she shrieked 'The Golem! Master will kill me! He'll torture me until I can't stand! Bartimaeus! Bartimaeus! Help! Help…' the girl's face retreated and faded until mist took her place. I think that was Queezle… and I think she might be dead, or beyond help.

The cobra looked shaken. It's form shuddered and became that of an Egyptian boy, around age fourteen. Ptolemy's form sat down, and the girl did likewise. Everything was quiet for several long minutes. Finally, the girl asked in a quiet voice,

"You knew her, didn't you?" I nodded numbly. "Will you tell me what this… Golem is?" I nodded but didn't speak for a long time.

"The golem incident," I began slowly, "took place in London, I don't know how many years ago. The golem was being controlled by one of the governors, Duvall. We didn't know that at the time, though. He was in on a scheme to seize power from the whole government along with several other crazy, power - hungry morons. Anyway, he commissioned some magician in Prague to help make a golem. A golem does not have a mind of its own. It was made of mud, and one eye, through witch the magician can control it. In the mouth, a scroll signed in blood gave the golem power. No one knew who had made it, but the magicians were prepared to risk their best djinn to find out. So, my master sent me out to roam the streets of London, in the more prosperous areas. I crossed by Queezle in my rounds. We stopped and chatted a bit, and then I moved on. Not ten minutes later, I heard her scream. I assumed the golem had found her, so I hightailed it back there. It was too late to save her, but I pursued the golem, and narrowly escaped with my life." I took a deep breath here, then said; "If she was dead, normally, no one would appear in the pentacle at all. What you saw means that you are not a typical magician. I don't even know what you are. No Wiccan can summon traces of the dead like that. No magician can either."

The way she looked at me! It was like she knew how much it hurt, loosing one of my few real friends. And it was also like she was confused at the thought of not being a normal magician.

"Perhaps," she said, "She is not dead. Maybe she's only trapped." I looked at her, disbelieving.

"No." I said. My voice had frost on it. "Beings of fire and air can't touch a golem. And Queezle had no warning. No one could have escaped her situation." The girl's brow furrowed, deep in thought. She put her head in her hands, and stayed in that position for several long minutes. I took this time to arrange my own thoughts.

There was no way Queezle survived. It was just… impossible. The only thing this odd summoning sounded like was necromancy, (2) and she didn't have the pentacle right for that. Plus, she'd need corpse candles, a sacrificial knife, and God knows what else. Necromancy was one of the things I don't care for. But still, one has to know some things about the things you hate, otherwise, how do you know you hate them?

Suddenly the girl looked up, her forehead still covered with crinkles.

"You can go." She said. "You've given us both enough to think about today." I nodded and faded away, back to the comforting chaos of the Other Place.

(1) If oversized

(2) Necromancy: the art of re-awakening the dead. Only the strongest and most evil magicians dare attempt it, for if you get one tiny thing wrong – a candle a fraction of a

centimeter off, you're dead.

**I like this chapter alot. I really do. Please tell me if i got anything wrong, and i'll fix it. Next Chapter is coming up soon! Please review!**


	5. Honestly, Mom, I Can Explain

**Hi pople. I just wanted to say, sorry for making you all wait so long. Circumstances piled against me, all that crap. anyway, heres the next chapter, it's not long, but it's the best i got for now. **

**BTW, I don't own any part of the Bartimaeus trillogy, other than the scribble below. Enjoy!**

The girl had just summoned me again. Today, she had barely opened her mouth, when a sharp knock came from the direction of the door. She blinked in surprise, then called;

"Come in!" A short, blonde haired woman walked through the door. She looked at me suspiciously. Luckily, however, I had not tried to frighten the girl today, because I knew it was useless. She would just ignore me, like always, so I had chosen Ptolemy's form. The woman's eyes narrowed.

"Alex…" the woman said, "Why isn't he wearing a shirt?" her tone was accusing, and when I figured out what of, my essence started to crawl.

"Hi mom!" she said cheerily, bounding from her circle. I was free! And I knew her name! I could strike anytime I wanted to! I tried to make myself believe it. (1) "Okay, this is Rekeyt. You know," she cast me a glance, "My partner for the Egypt project."

"But why –"

"Our presentation is oral, mom." The girl – Alex, I presume – said with convincing (fake) honesty, "We're gonna paint his skin blue, and pretend that he's a," she faltered. "A type of…"

"Jinni?" I supplied. I might as well play the part… hey, wait a minute… Blue? The girl nodded.

"Yeah, a type of jinni from ancient Egypt, and I'm gonna ask him questions about pharos, mummies, Pyramids –"

"Wait a minute!" I said, striding up to her. "We never said anything about painting me blue!" I tried my best to sound incredulous.

"Yes we did," she said, grinning, "You said you would,"

"But that was a joke!"

"Nuh-Uh!"

"But I –"

"Okay, you two!" the woman interjected before the faked argument got out of hand. "Save the dress rehearsal for later. Alex, you know you have tennis practice after school on Wednesdays, and young man," she glared at me, "do yourself and me a favor, and put a shirt on. And some pants might be a good idea too." She said, eyeing the cotton skirt-like piece I wore. Hmph. No appreciation for ancient Egyptian culture. I guess it's one of those 'I'm a mom who just found her daughter and a strange boy with his shirt off!' kind of things. Sheesh.

"Sure, sure," I muttered and stalked back to the pentacle.

"Do you guys want anything to eat?" Alex's mom asked, her baleful eyes still on my back.

"Maybe later, ma," she said, grinning. "Believe me, I've all but lost my appetite."

That sick little moron.

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(1) The only reason I didn't try to kill them, was simple curiosity. Seriously, who was this nutty kid? Why had Queezle (Or whoever it was) show up for her? It would be a shame to never find out.


	6. Aren't You Gonna Do Anything?

**Yola, mi pacos!  
Here's the next chap. Short, but I'm a-workin' on the next one! **

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Chapter 5: Aren't You Gonna Do Anything?

Alex turned toward me slowly once her mother left. I grinned at her scared and curious expression.

"Well, Alex," she flinched, "I guess we're even, then." Her eyes narrowed.

"I suppose. Aren't you gonna do anything?"

"Nope. You want me to?" I took a menacing step forward.

"N-no," she squeaked. I relaxed.

"I'll be right back then," I said turning to the door.

"What are you doing?" she asked, following me.

"Grabbing my shirt from the bathroom," I muttered, very aware that her mother was listening in. "Where is the bathroom again?"

"Oh," she said, obviously relived. "Second hallway to the left, three doors down." I wandered along to the door she had described. The house was huge, with cream colored walls and oak paneling. A rich green carpet stretched the length of the hallway. I ducked into the bathroom to shift forms.

The boy wandered back into the summoning room, wearing jeans, a black t-shirt, and expensive Nike tennis shoes. Alex nodded in approval.

"Nice. How do you do that by the way?" I sighed. Would the questions ever stop?

"I dunno. How does your hair grow? It's just part of being a djinn."

"Oh. Okay!" she brightened. What a queer creature.

"I really do have tennis this afternoon… wanna come along? There's a park, an' a big pool, an' a basketball court." I shrugged. (1)

"Whatever." She smiled and hurried off to talk to her mother.

I wandered around the summoning room, glancing out the large windows. The room seemed to be in the middle of redecoration. The floor was bare wood, and the walls were an un-painted off-white color. The landscape outside was a different matter. It was a city. We seemed to be at the top of a building, in the penthouse, maybe. Cars roared past on a main street, and large, fancy-looking buildings sat proudly along the road. Billboards were everywhere, announcing their advertisements with squalid grander.

"Okay, she says you can tag along," said Alex, rushing in. I stared at her. What in the world was she wearing?

"Er…" She looked self-conscious, "we've got an extra tennis racket if you'd like…?"

"Hmm?" I was a bit distracted by the odd suit she was wearing. It had black pants and a black jacket made out of soft cotton material. A pink shirt was showing underneath the unzipped jacket. I had never seen a magician dress like this before… ever. They would probably die of embarrassment. But, I should really stop comparing Alex to other magicians. She's obviously not one.

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(1) What on Earth was the child talking about? Basketball? Tennis? Swimming? No master of mine had ever invited me along for something fun. Well, except Ptolemy. I'm beginning to wonder Alex is his reincarnation…

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**Don't take the little note at the bottom too seriously folks! It's just an old Djinn's mind wandering...**

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	7. In Which There Is Plotting

**HI! Iz me, the author! Here's the next chap, where the plan forms...**

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"How" swish, "can" smack, "you" thump, "stand it?" I rubbed the sore spot on my head where my racket had, of its own accord, hit me.

"Oh, one get's used to it," Alex grinned, swinging her racket and expertly sending tennis balls over the net. Her coach had left not ten minutes ago, after shaking his head disappointedly at me. What can I say? It wasn't my fault that the stupid balls didn't want to stay inside the court. (I had to fetch one from the pool twenty feet away at one point.)

"Can I talk to you for a second?" I asked, grabbing her arm and leading her forcefully to the garden area.

"Sure," Said an ever-willing Alex.

"So," I began, unsure where this conversation would end, but knowing it would be an interesting place.

"You want to know what we're gonna do about Queezle, right?" She guessed.

"Okay, that's a start…"

"I need to ask-"

"Wait – lemme guess. Some questions?"

"Am I that predictable?"  
"With a capital 'P'" she glared at me for a moment.

"Okay, whatever. First, you told me that you last saw her in London, right?"

"Yep."

She looked thoughtful, and watched a group of raucous teenage boys go by. I stood there, waiting for her to respond. The flowers and bushes around us rustled around us, waving in the breeze. I scanned the seven planes, looking around us for spies. Nothing. The only magical aura I detected came from Alex. That was all. There were no messenger imps flying through the sky, no foloits going about on their master's business. It was a commoner's park, I told myself. No reason to suspect anything. But I couldn't help feeling that I was in a world without demons.

Suddenly, Alex seemed to come out of her reverie.

"My mother," she began slowly, "Is going to London for business. I don't usually tag along, but as it could be educational for me to see the British Museum, I suppose she would let me go. You would come along in my suitcase or backpack, in another form, of course, because it would be difficult for me to summon you in a hotel room. Then you'll show me exactly where you fought the golem, and we'll see what we can do from there." I nodded. It was a good plan. I just wanted to make sure she understood it herself.

"You do realize this would mean ditching school, ditching your mom, and ditching whoever is put in charge of you in London?" She grinned.

"I can't wait."

"You could get hurt," I warned.

"I been hurt before,"

"You could die,"

"As long as I get my fair share of adventure first,"

"You could-" I began, but she broke me off.

"Do you want to find Queezle, or no?

The kid had me. There was no getting out of it.

0000000000000000

We had agreed that for safety reasons, I would be a fly when we went through airport security, and change into a small lizard or insect for the flight. If I got restless, she would let me out of her carry-on bag and I could fly around the cabin for a bit in a small, inconspicuous form. It was a good plan, I must admit. She sent me home for a week's rest before my long stay on Earth. I must say, the kid is – Hold it right there. I've already mentioned that she's abnormal in every way, shape, and form. No use saying it again.

She called me back at about one in the morning, so her mother wouldn't notice anything unusual. She went back to bed to sleep a few more hours before she had to get up and catch her flight.

I was free to poke around the apartment for the time being. The first thing on my mind was to find out where we were.

After some digging, I found a map of New York, New York, the United States of America. The country had certainly progressed since I had last been here. And another thing… last time I checked, the Americas were at war with Brittan. And if the two countries were at war, then we definitely wouldn't be flying into hostile territory. Would we?

000000000000

The plan went smoothly, with only one bump along the way.

An air port official stopped Alex at carry-on baggage inspection. I started flicking through all seven planes, checking, making sure we weren't under attack. Nothing. Not even a mite. Something was wrong.

"Young lady, what is this?" Asked the security official, pulling a square Kleenex box. There seemed to be small objects glued to the inside. Alex, taking it in her stride, said;

"It's the place where my pink gecko Rekeyt lives!" she smiled serenely at the official. (1) He seemed to think she was insulting him.

"Sorry?" he said.

"Oh, I do hope that you'll let him on board," She leaned in close. "He's my imaginary friend. I wanted someone to talk to on the trip," she smiled sadly. "I hope that's okay," She pulled off the lonely little kid act very well, I thought. I still couldn't help buzzing up to her ear and muttering

"You milked that one a bit," She smirked and kept walking.

0000000000000

The cabin was dark, but inside Alex's backpack, a light was on. A small white Christmas tree bulb was wired to a couple of batteries, providing me with light.

I was inside the tissue box that Alex had so kindly provided for me. She had even put in gecko-sized furniture. I was settled down in the matchbox and cotton chair, (2) looking at the two doll-sized books in the corner of the box. They were a bit big for a gecko, but I guess it was the thought that counts. One was a small version of the Bible (3) and the other was home-made, with tiny print and a few resolute bits of string tying it together neatly. It was… A fantasy story. Retyped in a print so tiny that only someone very small, or someone with a magnifying glass, could read it. I had never had much of a taste for fiction, seeing as I could hardly tell the difference between it and reality, but I decided that I might as well. I read through it quickly, enjoying the author's sense of humor, but not really caring for the way wizards were able to produce their own magic. Everyone knows that we djinn really do all the legwork.

And yet… as much as I appreciated something to do… I couldn't figure out why she had done it.

000000000000000

(1) First blue, then pink…. What is it with this kid and dying me different colors? Honestly.

(2) Oh yeah. I live in the lap of luxury, me.

(3) I've read it once or twice before. Very heavy material, if you ask me.

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**OOH YAY!! LONDON AT LAST! whoot! this is where things start _happeninggggg_...**

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